


Cookies and Coffee

by starlight_starbright



Series: Stucky College AU's [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art Student Steve, Bottom Steve, Budding Relationship, Coffee, Come play, Cookie Shops, D/s undertones, Dates, Falling In Love, First Meeting, First Time I-Love-You's, Happy Ending, Kind Of Explicit, M/M, Music Student Bucky, Natasha Is Helpful, Non-Disabled Bucky, Non-Explicit Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Skinny Steve, Top Bucky, Well - Freeform, gentle dom Bucky, horror movies, tattooed steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve takes shifts at the cookie shop on his campus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> These are all based on some college AU's floating around tumblr.

Steve is eating one of the cookies when Natasha elbows him in the ribs. 

“What the fuck, Nat?” he splutters, crumbs falling from his mouth. She gestures toward the door, at the guy who had just walked in. He’s bundled up in a leather jacket and a grey scarf, breathtakingly beautiful blue eyes darting around the room. Steve sees a lot of hot guys when working the cookie shop at his university, but _holy shit_ is he gorgeous. Steve looks away quickly when the guy looks up and goes back to selling cookies, hiding his own half-eaten double chocolate cookie under the table.

“Told you so,” Natasha mutters from beside him. “Why is it that all the hot guys are gay?” She laughs and Steve looks up at her sharply.

“How do you know he’s gay?”

“He’s wearing a pride bracelet on his left wrist,” she says, like it’s obvious. Steve rolls his eyes. 

“He could just be an ally.” The redhead scoffs, handing a pretty blonde girl a bundle of cookies.

“Nah, not looking like that.” Steve looks back at the guy waiting in line and blushes. If he _is_ gay, Steve’s going to go for it. Maybe not today, but he will.

“Steve!” Steve looks up to see Sam pushing his way through the crowd. The larger man throws and arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “You going to the party tonight?” Steve shakes his head, accepting cash from the guy who just bought a cherry-glazed sugar cookie.

“I’m in the middle of a project, Sam. You know that.” Sam pouts, but relents, letting go of Steve in favour of giving Natasha a kiss.

“Samuel Wilson, I am working,” she snaps, trying to look offended that he would kiss her in public. He just smiles at her and Steve laughs. When he looks back up, Hot Guy is standing in front of him.

“What would you like?” Steve asks him, blush rising to his cheeks. Steve looks away—down to his hands.

“What do you recommend?” Hot Guys asks, openly staring at Steve. “I like chocolate.” Steve grins and hands him two of the double-chocolate chip cookies.

“Double-chocolate chip,” Steve says, and Hot Guy grins.

“Perfect. You’re in my art class, yeah?” Hot Guy hands Steve a dollar and Steve jumps when their hands touch, nodding. “Hmm.” Hot Guy turns around and leaves before Steve can say anything. Before Steve can even ask his name. _Next time_ , Steve vows to himself. 

-

“His name is Bucky,” Natasha tells him over lunch a week later. Steve raises one eyebrow, sipping at his coffee. “What? I did some digging. The guy is seriously hot and apparently he’s single.” She sings the last word and Steve laughs, almost choking on his coffee.

“I know his name. He’s in my art class. We talk sometimes. He’s funny.” Steve pauses, trying to remember what he knows about Bucky. “I help him with this projects sometimes, but he’s pretty good. I see him composing during class sometimes. He’s nice, he’s cute. I'm down with it.” Steve smiles and Natasha girns at him, flicking a packet of sugar at his face.

“He’s twenty-three, has no family other than a sister that he doesn’t really talk to, lives in the same apartment building as us, is majoring in music, and wants to be a composer for Broadway.” Steve throws a hand out to stop her next words. 

“He lives in the same apartment building as us?” Natasha winks at him. He doesn’t want to know how she knows that. “Okay, what else did you find out?”

“He plays guitar and piano, he’s really smart, and he really likes coffee. That’s all I got.” She drinks her own coffee hastily before standing up. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” They have another shift at the cookie shop today. So Steve grabs his coffee and refills it before they leave. “For such a small person, you really do drink a lot of coffee,” Natasha comments, grabbing Steve’s free hand twining their fingers together. It keeps his hands warm and she knows this—it’s the reason she does it. It had gotten on his nerves at first, but now he’s just grateful for it.

“I haven’t been sleeping. My first big project of the semester is due Friday, Nat. It’s Tuesday.” The redhead nods, understanding. She knows how he gets when there’s a big project.

“Are you at least eating? And taking your meds? Putting lotion on that tattoo?” Steve nods to all of the questions. “Because I don’t want you getting sick. Or that tattoo getting infected.” He knows she’s concerned, but he rolls his eyes anyway.

“It’s not my first tattoo, Nat,” he reminds her. “I'm covered in them. I know how to take care of them.” And it’s true—his whole body is covered. He has two full sleeves on both of his arms, one over his clavicle and another over his ribs on his left side, one covering his entire back, and a few scattered over his legs.

“I know, I know. I just worry about you.” She opens the door to the cookie shop and they walk in together, still holding hands. She lets go when they take their jackets off, throwing them over the back of their chairs. They’re relieving Maria and Thor, who hug them both before leaving. Most of their collective friend group work here every few days. It’s a bit of extra money and they get free cookies. What’s not to love?

“I know,” he tells Natasha when they sit down. “But I'm okay. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” She smiles and ruffles his hair. He groans and runs a hand through it, only messing it up further.

“Leave it,” Natasha says. “It looks good like that. And look who’s here.” And sure enough, when Steve looks up, Hot Guy—Bucky—is coming over to buy cookies. He’d been coming in during Steve and Natasha’s shift literally every time they worked. Steve looks up at him and grabs two of the chocolate cookies.

“I swear I'm not doing this on purpose,” Hot Guy—Bucky—says, giving Steve a blinding smile. “It’s just that these cookies are the only thing keeping me sane right now. Don’t judge me.” Bucky’s grin gets bigger when Steve laughs and hands over the cookies.

“No problem,” he says, keeping his voice level. Bucky turns to leave, and then spins back around looking nervous. _Oh God._

“But hey, do you wanna go out for coffee this afternoon?” Bucky smiles at him and Steve blinks, caught off guard.

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky grabs Steve’s phone, laying on the table unlocked from where he had texted Sam, and puts his number in Steve’s contacts. 

“Text me. We’ll figure something out.” He smiles again and turns to leave.

“I’m Steve,” he calls after him. Bucky turns around, still smiling. 

“Well, Steve, text me tonight, yeah?” Nodding, Steve leans back in his chair and watches him go.

“Steve has a daaate,” Natasha sings from beside him. 

“Shut the fuck up and sell your fuckin’ cookies, Natasha.” She cracks up, and Steve blushes. He’s having coffee with the hottest guy on campus tonight. Fuck.

-

Steve made it back to his apartment around five, peeling out of his layers and turning the coffee pot on. Natasha isn’t home yet—probably won't be if how she was hanging all over Sam today is any indication—so Steve grabs his sketchbook and sprawls out on the couch. He’s been working on this sketch for what feels like forever. It’s of Natasha—the only one of his friends that can sit still long enough to sketch them. His problem is when he gets to her face. He’s always been good at faces, but never, in the fifteen years they’ve been friends, has he been able to get her face right. It never looks _bad_ , but it’s never looked perfect, either.

An hour ticks by as he fills in, erases, and then re-shades her face, never content with how it comes out. His coffee comes and goes and he’s about to make another pot before he remembers. He’s supposed to meet Bucky tonight. So he pulls out his phone and looks for the contact. He’s expecting to find it under _Bucky_ , but no. It takes Steve ten minutes of scrolling through his contacts to find the one that wasn’t there before— _Ridiculously Hot Guy From the Cookie Shop_. Of course.

_Seriously? Ridiculously Hot Guy From the Cookie Shop?_

Steve smiles as he sends the message. This guy is funny. He can live with that. 

_It’s a lot more creative than ‘Bucky’ or ‘Guy In Your Art Class.’_

_Yeah well it took me ten minutes to find your fuckin’ contact_.

_Did it make you smile?_

_Yeah._

_Then I'm not sorry. So coffee?_

Steve laughs, then he looks down at his empty coffee cup and sighs.

_I’ve had at least three pots of coffee today. How about dinner?_

He’s nervous. Dinner is two steps up from a coffee date and Steve isn’t sure what Bucky is going to say.

 _Sounds great. I’m paying. Where do you live? I’ll pick you up_.

_We live in the same building. Meet you out front in thirty minutes?_

_Make it fifteen and you got a deal, punk_.

 _Fine. Jerk._  

Steve smiles at his phone for a moment before panicking. What the fuck is he supposed to wear? Oh God, this was a bad idea. Steve races to his closet and texts Natasha, pleading for wardrobe advice before throwing his phone on the bed and tearing through all of his clothes. _Black Widow_ by Iggy Azalea fills the room and Steve rushes to his phone.

“Hey,” Steve says, breathing hard.

“You sound like you’ve run a mile. Its just coffee. Calm down.” Steve laughs breathlessly and puts the phone on speaker so he can rifle through his closet some more.

“It’s dinner now,” he tells her. 

“Look who’s got a real date,” she teases through the phone. If she was here, Steve would throw a shirt at her, but he settles for a low groan. “Wear those black jeans that make your ass look good. And that shirt I got you for your birthday. The blue one from Urban. Wear your black Vans and your black jacket.” Steve gets dressed as she instructs him, hopping around as he puts his shoes on. “You’ll be fine. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and then she hangs up. He’s got two minutes to get out the door and downstairs. Grabbing his keys, wallet, and emergency inhaler from the bowl by the door, he locks up and makes his way down three flights of stairs. It’s much faster than the elevator and definitely safer. Running a hand through his hair as he goes, Steve takes a few deep breaths before stepping into the chilly New York night.

“Hey,” he hears from behind him. Turning, he sees Bucky with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. He’s wearing that leather jacket and what looks like a white v-neck underneath. Steve smiles.

“Hey.” Bucky looks him over before looking back at his face.

“C’mon,” the brunet says. “I know a place. You’re gonna love it.” He takes Steve’s hand and leads him to the parking lot, stopping in front of a sleek, black motorcycle. Steve looks at it for a moment before accepting the helmet Bucky hold out for him. Bucky gets on the bike and Steve gets on behind him, wrapping his arms around the larger man’s warm waist. “Just hold on, okay? You’ll be fine.” Steve smiles. 

“I drive a Harley, Buck. Just never ridden a bike as a passenger.” Bucky turns and grins at him.

“Well then this’ll be fun.” He turns around and coaxes the bike to life. “Hold on, Stevie,” he calls as they race down the street and off of campus. Steve holds on tightly to Bucky’s middle, laying his helmet-clad head against Bucky’s back. Ten minutes later, they’re pulling up to the curb of a nice-looking café. Steve gets off the bike and takes his helmet off, running his fingers through his hair. Bucky does the same before taking Steve’s hand and leading him inside. They both order soup—potato cheddar with bacon for Steve and chicken noodle for Bucky. Bucky orders two hot chocolates and two coffees and they sit down at a booth by a fireplace.

“You really didn’t have to pay,” Steve tells Bucky for the third time. The older man just smiles and waves it off with an _I wanted to, don’t worry about it._

“So tell me about yourself,” Bucky says after returning with their food. “What’s your major? What do you do with your free time?” Steve takes a sip of warm sweetness before answering.

“I’m an art major, which doesn’t leave me much free time. Especially now.” Bucky cocks and eyebrow and Steve can't help but think it’s adorable. “I have a project due soon and it’s taking up all of my time.” Bucky eats his soup as Steve talks, fingers drumming on the table. “I live with Natasha—the redhead in the shop you see me with. We’ve been friends for years. My Ma took her in when we were teenagers. She’s basically my sister. When my Ma passed last year, we moved in together.” Steve takes a deep breath and a sip of coffee to calm himself. “I’m dragged to every one of Tony Stark’s parties because I have the misfortune of being friends with him.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that one, but says nothing. “Um . . . I learned to tattoo when I was seventeen. I work part-time at Clint Barton’s shop tattooing. It’s probably something I’ll do for a while. I enjoy it.” Steve stops talking to eat his own dinner slowly. “What about you?” he asks, twirling his spoon in the hot liquid.

“I’m a music major—piano and guitar.” _Natasha was right about that one._ “I’ve lived in Brooklyn my whole life, but I don’t have any family except my sister. We don’t really talk.” _And that one_. “But it’s okay. I’ve got some good friends. Clint is actually my roommate.” Steve’s eyes widen. _Huh_.

“How have we not met before?”

“No idea,” Bucky replies, downing the rest of his coffee. “But I'm glad I ran into you.” Steve blushes and finishes his soup. Bucky takes their dishes over to the trash can and comes back smiling, sliding back into the booth and wrapping both hands around his cup of hot chocolate. “So whaddya have planned tonight?” Steve thinks about it for a minute, and then decides not to lie.

“I need to work on my project some, but other than that, not much. We could watch a movie or something?” Bucky smiles and stands, tossing his empty cup in the trash.

“I’d love to see your work, too,” he says, offering his hand. Steve takes it and throws his cup out, more focused on the warm hand wrapped around his own. Bucky looks down at him with an expression that’s probably meant to be seductive but doesn’t quite make it.

“Whatever look you were going for, you missed,” Steve teases, looking up at Bucky. Bucky laughs—the kind of laughter that makes you want to join in and laugh until your stomach hurts even though it wasn’t that funny.

“At least I'm pretty,” Bucky jokes back, tightening his grip on Steve’s hand. 

“Yeah, you are,” Steve hears himself say. He blushes and Bucky squeezes his hand. They drive back to their building, Steve with his arms around Bucky’s waist and Bucky’s hand going down to cover his whenever they hit a red light. It makes Steve feel warm inside despite the chill. When they get to their building, Bucky takes his hand again and Steve leads him up to his apartment, unlocking the door and dropping his keys, wallet, and inhaler in the bowl.

“Do you have asthma?” Bucky asks, kicking his shoes off.

“Yeah. I have a list of issues.” Bucky chuckles and takes his jacket off. Steve takes his own coat off and throws it over the back of the recliner. Bucky follows his lead and Steve gestures for him to sit on the couch. “I’m gonna grab my laptop and some of my sketchbooks. Make yourself comfortable. Seriously.” Bucky gives him that million-watt smile and stretches out on the couch. “There ya go.” Steve smiles, blushes, and flees from the room to get his laptop. He takes his MacBook back into the room along with his largest sketchbook—the one with his best work in it.

“That thing’s bigger than you,” Bucky teases when he walks back in.

“Hey, you wanted to see my work. All of my best stuff is in there.” So while Steve boots up Netflix, Bucky leafs through the sketchbook. Steve hears gasps every now and then, and when he finally looks up, he sees Bucky staring at him open-mouthed. And then Steve’s eyes fall on the drawing he’s looking at.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see that one. I'm so sorry, I should have asked.” It’s a portrait of Bucky composing in art class. He’d done it maybe two weeks ago. It’d been quick, but he’d gone back and finished it, polished it. It’s one of his best works. “I should have asked. I'm sorry. I’ll get rid of it if you want—”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Bucky says firmly. “Steve . . . Steve this is incredible.” The brunet is still staring at him and Steve flushes. “Can I . . . could I have it, maybe?” Steve’s eyes widen. Bucky wants one of his sketches?

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky tears the paper out carefully and sets the book aside. 

“You make me look . . .” 

“Beautiful? You are.” Bucky grins at him.

“You plannin’ on pickin’ me up with all that sweet talk, Stevie?” Bucky nudges Steve’s thigh with his toes and Steve laughs, feeling more confidant.

“Well, you’re already in my apartment.” Steve pokes him back, ducking his feet under Bucky’s calves to warm up. Bucky nods and shrugs his shoulders.

“You’ve got me there. So what’re we watchin’? You pick.” Steve grins and turns a movie on.

-

Two weeks later, Bucky and Steve are dating. Bucky had kissed Steve that first night, soft and sweet and short. The next day, they went out again—just to get coffee. A month after that, they start dating. And now it’s three months since they started dating, a month since they started having sex, and they hang out all the time—Bucky coming into the cookie shop while Steve is working and eating all of the cookies, Steve meeting Bucky after art class for coffee, Bucky coming to the tattoo shop and hanging out with Clint or Hugh if Steve is tattooing.

Tonight, Bucky’s come over to watch a movie. Natasha is at Sam’s and so Steve has the place to himself. There had been some heavy making out until Steve had had to take his medicine—which really ruined the mood—but Bucky had brought up Netflix by the time he came back into his room.

So Steve picks a horror movie and thirty minutes into it, he has a very scared Bucky curled into his side. “Holy fuck!” Bucky yells, jumping halfway into Steve’s lap. “Why do you do this to me, Stevie?” Bucky mutters, hiding his face in Steve’s neck. Steve’s hand runs down his boyfriend’s back, trying to sooth him.

“It’s just a movie, Buck.” Bucky bites down on Steve’s neck causing Steve’s entire body to jerk.

“A fuckin’ horror movie, Stevie. You know they scare me.” Steve laughs and digs his fingers into Bucky’s ribs, making him squeal and pull away.

“But it’s so much fun watching you freak out.” Steve sticks his tongue out at the brunet and shuts his computer, knowing this is going elsewhere. Bucky takes Steve’s ankles and yanks him down the bed. The bigger man crawls between Steve’s legs and leans down for a kiss.

“Won't be so much fun when I get you back later.” Bucky kisses him again and Steve laughs.

“I can always withhold cookies at the shop,” Steve teases, knowing full well he’d never do that.

“But Steeeve,” Bucky whines. “I _like_ those cookies.” Steve quirks an eyebrow. "You wouldn't dare." Steve leans up and kisses him. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, baby?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and pouty. Steve laughs and shakes his head.

“Of course not. I love you too much to withhold your chocolate.” And _oh shit_ he’s just told Bucky he loves him. _Shit._ “Fuck. I . . .” Steve can't finish because Bucky is suddenly tearing his clothes off. They’re both naked in record time.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare try takin’ that back, Stevie,” Bucky growls into his ear, slicking his fingers and pressing them inside. Steve moans loudly, gripping Bucky’s shoulder for dear life. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’ve been waiting for ages for you to say it first.” Steve can’t help but laugh, but it turns into a moan when Bucky adds another finger. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Steve whispers, pushing back on Bucky’s fingers.

“Louder,” Bucky whispers, pulling his fingers out.

“Bucky, please. God, I love you. Please. I need you. I love you.” Bucky takes his time sliding in, bringing Steve to the brink and then backing off. He’s told Steve not to come, and Steve won't until Bucky says. He’ll touch Steve occasionally, but not in any way that can give him release. It’s fucking frustrating but _oh so good_. Bucky’s learned how to work Steve’s body—how to make sex go for at least an hour, which isn’t easy to do with all of Steve’s health problems. Around the forty-minute mark, Steve gets antsy. He’s so _full_ , so sensitive, that he can't take anymore. “Please, Buck. I wanna come. _Please_.” Bucky smiles down and him and presses a soft kiss to Steve’s neck.

“You beg so pretty for me Stevie.” Steve moans, back arching as Bucky picks up his pace. Steve’s winning. Bucky’s doing what Steve wants. “You wanna come, baby? You come when you need to.” Given permission, it only takes three hard thrusts against his prostate for him to come apart, moaning and shivering and crying out Bucky’s name. It takes Bucky another minute before he’s following, cradling Steve’s face in his hands and he kisses him through it. “So good for me, baby,” Bucky croons, moving to lie next to Steve. The brunet grabs the tissues from the night stans and cleans them up slowly.

“I love you,” Steve tells him again. Bucky’d once told him that it’s hard for him to believe that anyone actually cares about him. Steve wants to make sure that his boyfriend knows. “I love you, Bucky Barnes.” The older man smiles down at him and kisses his forehead.

“I love you, too, Stevie. Why don’t we finish that movie so you can hold me some more?” Steve laughs and picks his laptop up off of the floor. 

“I really should video this, but we’re kind of naked.” Bucky laughs and pulls Steve closer. The brunet takes the laptop and props it on his knees, pressing play.

“No one else gets to see you like this,” Bucky whispers into Steve’s hair. “You’re mine.” Steve finds himself nodding, holding Bucky as close as he can.

“Yeah, I am. Jerk.” Bucky’s chest rumbles with laughter.

“Punk.”


End file.
